Brothers

Firework

~*~Eight Years Later; July 4th 1930~*~

A baseball was caught by a leather baseball mitt. Little Steve, now eight years old with a baseball cap too big on his head, reached his right hand over  into the mitt to fish the baseball out of his left hand’s grip. He took the ball and pulled his arm back, raising his hand into the air. He threw the ball a good fifteen feet before it hit another leather mitt, this one belonging to Alfred, who had a smirk on his face and had on a New York Yankees jersey top with a baseball cap also on his person while wearing a pair of dark brown bell bottom trousers with a pair of sneakers.

“Nice one!” Alfred commented with a smirk of satisfaction on his face. His eyes gleamed behind his glasses. The sun in Central Park was at four in the afternoon, letting its warmth and heat shine down at all the people in the park in the summer afternoon. It was the Fourth of July, once again their birthdays; and also the eighth anniversary of their first meeting. Ever since Steve could remember, this is how he spent his birthdays, with his favorite and only Uncle Alfred, who ironically had the same birthday as him. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have it any other way really.

The boy giggled at his comment, smirking lightly. Alfred pitched the ball back to his nephew who thought of him more as a father now. Steve put the mitt in front of his face with the palm facing the ball, getting ready to catch it. A second later, the ball landed in the boy’s hand and he closed it, ensuring its stay inside the leather mitt. “Hey, Uncle Alfred,” the blonde boy started, obviously wanting to ask him something. He adjusted his hat so that it blocked out the sun and that he could somewhat see. The boy took the ball out of his mitt and threw it back to Alfred.

“What’s up?” Alfred asked the boy as his eyes followed the slightly beaten up baseball that was soaring through the air until it landed inside his mitt. His blue eyes then focused on the boy in his care.

“When are we getting hot dogs and hamburgers?”

Alfred laughed a little before he threw the ball back. “Soon, Bro,” he answered. Steve couldn’t help but smile along as he caught the ball.

~*~

The two sat on a rock in the shade of the leafy trees, watching the other people in the park.

“So, you havin’ a fun time, Dude?” Alfred asked, looking down at Steve before taking a bite out of his hamburger.

“Yeah,” Steve took a bite into his hot dog that had squiggly line of ketchup going down it, some resting on the bun. “It’s nice here.” He spoke between chews. America blew air out of his nose in an amused way. His mouth was stuffed with cooked hamburger and bun. Alfred picked up the glass bottle filled with Coca Cola soda, flicked off the cap with the rock’s surface, and then took a large gulp of it, swallowing hard.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” Alfred sighed, staring out into the horizon. The sun was starting to set in the distance. “How’s things with your mom?”

“Alright, I guess,” Steve answered, bringing up the chewed hot dog to take another bite. America glanced at him before taking another swig of his cold soda. “How’re the World Meetings going?”

Alfred stared at the eight year old for a brief moment before continuing to stare at the sun that was more behind the tree line than it was a few minutes ago. “Pretty good, I guess. A lot of people are still angry at this country though.” He chuckled.

Steve looked up at him, trying to comprehend what he was saying. “What’ya mean?” The sky was starting to show the faintest signs of gold peeking through the blue sky on the tree-covered horizon. Without looking at him, Mr. Jones let out a long and exasperated sigh.